


I didn't know I was broken 'til I wanted to change (I wanna get better)

by KeepGoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: DEREK WANTS TO BE BETTER, M/M, STILES HELPS DEREK BE A BETTER MAN, Slow Build, deputy!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek realizes if he is going to stay in Beacon Hills he needs to make some changes. He's not the same person he was and he needs to build upon his new found realizations. </p><p>Stiles wants to help. </p><p>And help he does. </p><p>
  <i>John rests his hands in front of him folded, with a look of calm on his face towards his son. “Stiles, everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone deserves the right to change and be better. Derek came to me and expressed this. I gave it to him. So why don’t you cut the young man some slack and be happy and supportive and not look down at him all the time?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stiles eyes bug out of his head, hands still flailing as he looks between his father and the new deputy. Derek finally nods at him, eyes warm and inviting, a new look Stiles has never seen on him before. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Derek?” It comes out like a question but Stiles isn’t sure why it does. Derek just nods again. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I wanna get better.”</i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calling my name and I follow just to find you...

**Author's Note:**

> So Tyler Hoechlin said at a recent convention that if Derek Hale had a song it would be **"I wanna get better" by the Bleachers.** So of course my fangirl mind and heart ran with this and here is the wolf pup of a fic that was born with it. I will be updating weekly. I hope you enjoy it :)  
> 

  
Derek can smell of mixture of pack scent as he walks past the front desk and toward the back of the police station. They had all been in there at one time or another. And even Derek, behind bars on many occasions for a plethora of things. 

It feels weird to be back here without being handcuffed. 

He knocks gently on the door and blue eyes, worn around the edges from years of living, look up at him with confusion then quickly acceptance. 

“Derek. Is everything okay?” The sheriff pushes back from his desk, standing, and waiting for the words of the latest Beacon Hills supernatural disaster to spill from Derek’s mouth. 

“Everything is okay, Sheriff-“

“John, Derek. Call me John.” He gives the younger man a small smile and leans back against his desk. 

“John.” Derek repeats slowly. “Everything is okay. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Alright.” John relaxes slowly and grips his hands along the edge of his desk, eyeing Derek.

“I was wondering what the process was if I wanted to come and work for the Police Department.” Derek asks gently.

John Stilinski raises an eye brow. “You want to be a deputy?”

Derek nods. John smiles. 

“Let me get you some paperwork.”  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
“Okay, so I know you’re going to cry about what I brought you for lunch, mainly because the smell of my curly fries may make you weep with jealousy, but I’m telling you Dad this salad is going to knock your-“

Stiles barrels into his father’s office only to suddenly stop, as if he has hit a brick wall, eyes wide with disbelief. 

Derek Hale is sitting across from his father, hunched over the edge of his desk, pen scribbling feverishly on paper. Derek turns his head ever so slightly, green eyes piercing and eye brows arched in perfect Derek Hale fashion. 

“-socks off.” Stiles finishes. 

“You are such a good son, anyone ever tell you that?” Sheriff Stilinski meets Stiles by the door, taking the plastic bag of food from his hands. 

Stiles still hasn’t taken his eyes off Derek. 

“More than once.” Stiles mumbles answering his father. “But I always like to hear it.” He pauses, taking a small step into the office. “Uh, sorry Sour wolf, I didn’t know you were here or I would have brought you some curly fries. Or salad. Or a bunny.”

Derek lets out a low non amused growl, never looking up from his furious writing.

 _‘What’s he doing here?’_ Stiles mouths at his father. He only smiles at his teenage son. Stiles sighs and sits gingerly on the seat next to Derek, pulling it closer to the desk so he can spread his food out. He eyes the paper work Derek is madly giving his attention to. 

“Are you filling out a job application?” Stiles spits out, curly fry bits flying from his mouth. 

Derek looks up, mouth pursed, eyes glaring with annoyance. “Yes, Stiles.”

“But…why?” His eyes shift anxiously between his Dad and Derek. “Don’t you have like…a lot of money? What do you need a job for? And I thought you were leaving Beacon Hills!”

“Stiles!” His Father warns. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles, trying to change his expression towards Derek to a much softer one. “Okay, no dude. Good for you. Being all you can be.”

“I’m not joining the army, Stiles.” Derek mumbles, giving a last signature on the bottom of his stack of paperwork before pushing it toward John. “I’m just…getting a job.”

“What are you bored?” Stiles asks, shoving more fries into his mouth. He jiggles the container toward Derek who shakes his head at the offer. 

“No. Maybe. I’m just doing it, okay? I think this may be the most productive way to help.” He leans back in the chair and Stiles cannot help but notice the way his dark green t-shirt hugs his abs. Stiles swallows hard. 

“Well good for you turning over a new leaf. So I assume you’re staying then.” Stiles asks gently.

Derek almost smiles. “Yes, Stiles. I’m staying.”  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
And that’s where it begins. The new thing where Derek is EVERYWHERE in Stiles’ life. At the station, around town, in his HOUSE, wearing a deputy uniform that should be illegal for him to wear with how tight he insists on wearing his pants and shirt one size to small. And he’s like doing his hair now; spiking the front with just the right amount of gel. And can he talk about the aviators that fit perfectly on Derek’s stupid face?

Stiles loves Saturday mornings. He can sleep in; not brush his teeth right away and eat his cereal in front of the TV watching SpongeBob because his dad is usually already at the station by the time he rolls himself out of bed and its perfect Stiles time to defunk from the week and lounge around in his boxers all day. 

But not today.

Because this Saturday morning, his father ISN’T at work and when Stiles meanders downstairs, in said boxers and nothing else, the sheriff and fucking Derek Hale are sitting at the kitchen table, case files everywhere and the smell of fresh coffee in the air. 

Stiles makes a meeping sound, covering his junk which is already covered by smiley face boxers, and stares wide eyed at the new deputy in front of him who is raising one of those damn eye brows and smirking at him. 

“Morning, Stiles.” He expels from his lips like sex on legs. Stiles feels the heat wash over his chest and he bolts back up the stairs his father and Derek chuckling under their breaths. 

When Stiles returns, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, there are eggs and summer sausage on a plate sitting on the table waiting for him. He smiles at his dead who shakes his head, pointing his capped pen in Derek’s direction. “That was all Derek, here.”

“You made me breakfast?” Stiles asks, wary now of sitting down to eat it. 

“Mmm.” Is all Derek replies. 

Stiles flails. “Okay, dude. Out with it. What the hell is going on with you?”

“Stiles.” His father warns. 

“No, seriously. Dad you don’t understand. This is not Derek Hale sitting in front of you. This is some sort of invasion of the body snatchers type crap. Because THAT-“ Stiles waves his hand in Derek’s general direction, “-is NOT Derek Hale.”

“Maybe it’s not the Derek Hale you’re used to, but it’s the Derek Hale now.” His father states matter-of-factly. Stiles gapes at him. Seriously??

“SERIOUSLY? Dad do you not remember arresting him? Do you not remember big bad werewolf where little red riding Stiles shouldn’t be alone in the woods at night because of HIM? How can you just be so cool now with all this?”

John rests his hands in front of him folded, with a look of calm on his face towards his son. “Stiles, everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone deserves the right to change and be better. Derek came to me and expressed this. I gave it to him. So why don’t you cut the young man some slack and be happy and supportive and not look down at him all the time?”

Stiles eyes bug out of his head, hands still flailing as he looks between his father and the new deputy. Derek finally nods at him, eyes warm and inviting, a new look Stiles has never seen on him before. 

“Derek?” It comes out like a question but Stiles isn’t sure why it does. Derek just nods again. 

“I wanna get better.”

And in that statement, Stiles knows he’s in deep shit trouble. Because in this moment Stiles realizes he wants that for Derek too. 

Stiles smiles, pulling out the chair next to Derek and taking a huge bite of eggs. “So I’ll help you. Whatcha working on?”

Derek raises one of those damn eye brows. “A case.”

“Duh, I know that. But what kind? Is it supernatural in nature?” Stiles wiggles his eye brows and Derek full on smiles. When John excuses himself from the table Stiles goes back to his eggs and sausage, side glancing at Derek ever so often. 

“You should do that more often.” 

“What?” Derek asks, not looking up from the crime photos in front of him.

“Smile.”

Derek’s head shoots up, eyes focused and blaring at Stiles. Shock. Another look Stiles hasn’t really seen on Derek. “Why?”

“Cause.” Stiles shrugs. “It looks good on you.”

“Mm…” Derek looks around, ears perked, trying to figure out where the sheriff is. Stiles knows that look. When Derek’s eyes fall back on Stiles, they are different now. More focused. More dangerous. A look Stiles knows all too well. He swallows the last of his eggs and feels his skin begin to hum. 

“You stink.”

Stiles frowns. “I haven’t showered yet. Sorry if my stench offends you.”

“I never said it did.” Derek goes back to his photos and Stiles is left staring at him, as usual, with the same look of confusion. 

“Then what?” Stiles demands. Derek looks up. 

“I like it.”

“You like when people stink?” Stiles shakes his head. “You are one weird werewolf.”

“No.” Derek corrects him. “I like when you stink. I like your scent.”

“I…WHAT. How did I not know this till now? Is it JUST me, like what EXACTLY about my stench do you like?” Stiles pulls his chair closer to Derek, as if smelling him better will give him better answers. 

Derek lets out a low grumble in his chest and darts his eyes sideways towards Stiles. “It just…smells good to my wolf.”

Stiles eyes widen and he grins. “So yes shower or no shower?”

Stiles knows what he’s doing. He’s testing Derek. If Derek is going to be better and more open and more human, Stiles needs to test the waters of just how far he can push Derek. In all aspects. 

“If you shower, I’m going to rip your throat out, with my teeth.”

Stiles smiles, leans his arm clear across the table in front of Derek, his arm pit in direct contact with Derek’s face, grabbing the file that says “CONFIDENTAL” in red sharpie across the front. 

“There’s my sour wolf.”  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
“So that was weird, right? I should be freaking out, right? RIGHT?”

Stiles eyes are wild as he looks between his friends faces that Monday at the lunch table. 

They all stare back unaffected. 

“Not…really. I mean he’s a wolf. A born wolf at that. Certain scents affect wolves differently.” Scott shrugs. “Maybe you do just smell good to him. It’s like any type of chemistry. Its why certain people end up with certain people. Why I’m with Kira and not that girl-“ Scott waves his hand over Stiles head, “-over there.”

“Are you listening to what you are saying? You and Kira? Like Derek and I are like YOU AND KIRA?” Stiles whispers loudly. 

Lydia shrugs, never looking up from her cell phone. “Makes sense.”

“What makes sense? Me and DEREK?” Stiles practically yells. 

“I think you’d be cute together.” Kira announces, all smiles and unicorns. Stiles eyes widen. 

“Do you all think this?” Stiles asks, completely baffled. He meets eyes with his best friend since the sandbox, pleading internally for Scott to be the voice of reason.

“He is different now. And you’re heart does skip a beat when he has his shirt off.” Scott smirks. 

“I hate you all.” Stiles clambers away, huffing the entire time.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Derek gets an apartment. Like a real apartment with running water and a fridge that actually has food in it and he buys a couch, from a store, not one he picked up on the side of the road out of the garbage. He has a small wooden table with 2 chairs to eat meals at and a bed on a box spring with a fucking head board.

It’s freaking Stiles out. 

It freaks Stiles out even more when his dad offers to help Derek move and throws Stiles in for a little heavy lifting as well. 

But when the move is complete and the apartment is set up like an actual human being lives there, it makes Stiles heart ache in a way he never expected. He’s dare he say proud of Derek. His Dad says he’s doing great down at the station; his “special” skills really coming in handy. Their arrest rate is up 25% in just the few months Derek has been on the force. 

Derek is over for dinner at least once a week and Stiles Saturday mornings he used to cherish so dearly are now overrun by eggs, bacon and sausage and sometimes even pancakes, with case files thrown everywhere and eyebrows and crooked teeth and soft scruff and fuck what has become of his life?

Everything is different even though nothing that substantial has changed in Stiles’ life. Everything is pretty much the same. 

Until one night it isn’t. 

“He’s having dinner with Melissa. It’s weird but cool at the same time but yeah, he’s not here.” Stiles tells Derek when the front door is opened. 

“Oh, right that was tonight.” Derek nods, shuffling his feet a little, not directly looking Stiles in the eyes. 

Stiles sighs. “You wanna come in? I’m making mac and cheese and I was about to watch The Dark Knight.”

“Again?” Derek asks with a smirk, brushing past Stiles in the doorway. 

“It’s a classic!” Stiles closes the door scowling at him.

“Casablanca is a classic.” Derek argues sitting gently on the couch as if he still, after all this time, feels a bit uncomfortable in the Stilinski house. 

“Yeah, but Christian Bale’s not in Casablanca.” Stiles flops down next to him. 

“Got a thing for Christian Bale, huh?” Derek raises an eye brow. Stiles flails. 

“Uh, well dude. Have you seen him? He’s beautiful. Even you can admit that’s one fine good looking man.” Stiles picks up the remote off the coffee table, pushing the play button for the DVD player.

“He’s not my type.”

“Oh, right. You like homicidal maniacs.” Stiles glances at Derek who is glaring at him. “Too soon?”

“Well maybe I’m attracted to different things now.” Derek mumbles. 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Stiles grabs at the blanket off the back of the couch and throws it over him. He offers the corner to Derek, who is just staring at him now, who doesn’t answer, so in return Stiles carefully lays the edge over Derek’s denimed knees. 

“Maybe I like loud hyperactive teenage boys who ask too many questions.”

Stiles STARES open mouthed at Derek who is now not even looking at him like 3 seconds earlier and his eyes are fixated on the television screen. Stiles is trying to find words. He is searching his brain for any type of cognitive thought, but nothing is registering. Finally Derek slowly turns his head back to Stiles, eyes soft and warm and inviting. Just like his mouth which is expelling long breaths out; his chest rising and falling with all the confidence in the world as if what he just confessed to Stiles isn’t that big of a deal. 

“Since…when?” Stiles barely whispers. He wasn’t imagining it. There has been something forming between them. Maybe even since that first day in the preserve. But it’s grown stronger and heavier and hotter since Derek’s new change in behavior. Stiles can feel it under his skin. 

Derek shrugs, like the words that just flowed from his mouth aren’t earth shattering to Stiles’ fragile existence. “Does it matter?”

“YES. Cause like…this is information that I would have liked to have known before now!” Stiles moves closer to Derek, who eyes him. 

“Well I’m telling you now.” Derek is so…calm about this which is just causing Stiles’ anxiety to rise through the fucking roof. Derek can feel the vibrations coming off him and it makes his wolf smile. 

“And what makes you think I even find you attractive? Or that I want anything from you other than your keen werewolf senses so me and the rest of us don’t die in dangerous situations?” Its Stiles’ turn to raise an eye brow at him. 

Derek just smiles. Bastard.

“Then you don’t.”

Just like that. Like it’s that freaking easy. 

“Well, I didn’t exactly say I didn’t, I’m just…” Stiles frowns. “Can you not be all Zen wolf for a second and actually use your words? I’m kinda freaking out here.”

“I know. It’s cute.”

“CUTE? My anxiety is cute to you?” Stiles narrows his eyes. 

“It always has been.”

“So all those times you pushed me against hard surfaces and did the scary ‘grr’ face was for your amusement?” Okay, Stiles is pissed now. Beyond pissed.

“Like you didn’t enjoy it as much as I did.”

Stiles just stares at him some more, open mouthed and thoroughly dumbfounded. The nerve of this asshole. 

“Well then, what the fuck now?”

Derek shrugs again. “Now, we watch a movie.”

“That’s IT?” Stiles yells. Derek smirks, his eyes never leaving the screen. 

“For now.”

“For now…” Stiles mumbles, huffing and pulling the blanket up over himself, sneaking peeks at Derek every now and then, totally not paying attention to the movie. 

“You’re not even going to like, hold my hand or anything?” Stiles finally squeaks out. This is ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. 

“Do you want me to hold your hand?”

Stiles groans in frustration, throwing his head back against the couch and Derek eyes his long exposed neck with a small growl. Stiles hears it and rolls his head to look at him. “What if I said you could do whatever the fuck you wanted and I would happily oblige.”

“I’d say that it’s too soon for all the things I want to do, but hand holding is okay if it will make your heart stop beating so damn fast I’m afraid you may have a heart attack.” Derek reaches under the cocoon of blankets and finds Stiles’ sweaty palm. He intertwines their fingers and goes back to the movie. 

It does settle Stiles. In ways he never thought possible. He is instantly relaxed. And happy. Stiles feels…happy.

“This good?” Derek asks. Stiles nods. For once he has no words. 

“Okay.” 

“So no kissing?”

“No kissing.”

“Then…when?”

“Soon.”

“When soon?”

Derek sighs, squeezing Stiles hand in his. “When I’m better.”

Stiles smiles. “I told you I’d help.”

Derek slowly turns his gaze to him; His expression calm and his eyes sparkle just for a brief moment when looking at Stiles. “You are.”

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek realizes if he is going to stay in Beacon Hills he needs to make some changes. He's not the same person he was and he needs to build upon his new found realizations.
> 
> Stiles wants to help.
> 
> And help he does.
> 
> _“Are you like waiting till I’m 18 or something? Because I will have you know the age of consent in California is 17 and I fucking consent. I consent **so hard, Derek**.” _   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter. I am really having fun with this fic. I haven't ever written a chapter fic before (to be be honest I was never a fan of them, writing or reading) but this has been fun. 
> 
> You'll see in this chapter Stiles is growing a little frustrated so Derek uses some more of his words. PROGRESS. 
> 
> Comments are LOVE. <3  
> 

  
“So, which one?”

Stiles looks up from his cell into Derek’s pointed look. “Huh?”

They are standing in the middle of Lowes on a Thursday afternoon, which was just weird in ways Stiles couldn’t even begin to describe, but what makes this picture even more bizarre is that Derek is staring at him actually waiting for an answer as if Stiles’ opinion on kitchen appliances actually matters in the grand scheme of things. 

Derek sighs heavily. “Don’t act like this doesn’t matter. You’re the one always complaining about my lack of modern cooking supplies in the apartment and you said the ziti you made the other night was not up to Stiles’ standards because the oven is from and I quote, '1957'. So here-“ Derek waves his hand in front of the row of stoves in front of them. –“stop playing angry birds for 2 seconds and tell me which oven you want.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and lowers his phone from away from his face. “Which one I want? Do you forget it’s not MY apartment, Derek.”

“You’re there enough.” Derek states the obvious.

“Pfft…well…yeah I guess I am. But that’s only because I’ve been…never mind.” Stiles brings his phone back to his face continuing his assault on propelling birds into other birds. Derek grabs the phone and shoves it into his back pocket. 

“Hey! Give me my phone.” Stiles makes grabby hands and Derek folds his arm tight across his chest. 

“You’ve been what, Stiles?”

Stiles brings his lower lip into his mouth, chewing mercilessly. “Waiting.”

“For?”

“You know what the _frig_ for, Derek. It’s been like 4 months. 4 months of making dinners together and getting ice cream and taking long drives and holding hands while we watch Storage Wars. It’s like the longest case of blue balls in HISTORY. So what the hell does it matter what kind of oven you get, huh? Why does it matter to me? Why should it matter to YOU which color I like or if you should get electric or gas? Am *I* paying your utilities, no. So WHAT THE HELL, DEREK!?” Stiles stands, face red, chest heaving, fists at his side, in front of Derek. 

Derek growls low in his chest and takes a long deep breath in and out through his nose. “Oh, Jesus, fine.” He lunges forward, taking Stiles hot cheeks in his hand and presses his mouth firmly over Stiles. Stiles makes that meeping sound Derek has grown to really love and it takes a few seconds but he finally softens into the kiss, his fingers slowly hovering and then grazing over Derek’s hands. He opens his mouth, letting Derek’s warm tongue slide gently over his. 

The kiss is perfect. It’s everything Stiles wanted their first kiss to be. And of course Derek delivered. 

When they finally pull apart, out of breath, pupils blown and knees both a little weak, they stare at each other, facing down the inevitable. Stiles nods gently, giving Derek an answer he’s been asking with his eyes. 

Yes. That’s what he’s been waiting for. Yes, it was amazing. 

“Okay, good.” Derek grabs Stiles’ hand firmly and turns them back to the appliances in front of them. “Now, which one?”  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
So kissing is new. It’s not like Stiles hasn’t kissed people before. In fact in the past year he’s had more random kisses than probably most of his friends. But everyday kissing? That’s new. 

And it’s awesome. 

Movie nights that used to consist of dinner and marathoning Netflix or making Derek watch Xmen for the 100th time is now filled with hours upon hours of kissing. 

And that’s it. 

And as bad as it was BEFORE they were kissing on a regular basis is now amplified by 20 million. Because Stiles jerks off way more than he ever has because Derek sure as hell won’t do it for him no matter how much he begs and pleads.

“Are you like waiting till I’m 18 or something? Because I will have you know the age of consent in California is 17 and I fucking consent. I consent SO HARD DEREK.” 

He’s on Derek’s lap, grinding his ass down over Derek’s denim covered erection and Derek keeps digging his human nails into Stiles hips, keeping him just shy enough from his dick that he can’t quite feel how big or hard he is. Its making Stiles want to commit murder. Or walk into traffic. 

“It has nothing to do with your age, Stiles.” Derek sucks Stiles lower lip into his mouth and bites gently. Stiles moans and grips the back of Derek’s hair, HARD.

“Then what the FUCK IS IT?” Stiles yells. Derek goes in for another kiss but Stiles pushes himself away and off Derek’s lap. He lands with an ‘ooof’ on the cushion and adjusts his t-shirt that is bunched around his torso. 

Derek sighs, leaning his head back against the couch and closes his eyes. “Do you think this is easy for me, Stiles? That I enjoy keeping you at a physical distance? Do you think it doesn’t drive me nuts that I can’t do the things I want to do to you? Don’t you think I jerk off just as much as you?”

Stiles flails, eyes wide, mouth open in confusion. “THEN WHAT THE FUCK DEREK!?”

Derek raises his head, eyes soft and looks at his new…boyfriend. Yeah, Stiles is his boyfriend. Everyone knows it, including the Sheriff. It feels nice to say. It feels right.

“Please stop yelling.” Derek asks. 

Stiles calms and flops back against the couch pillows. “Fine. I’m calm. Now tell me why you won’t fuck me.”

A ghost of a smile forms on Derek’s lips. “Stiles, I want to fuck you. This has nothing to do with want and need. This has to do with control and what’s best.”

“What’s best for WHO?” Stiles demands. He’s horny. Derek knows it. It’s practically the only emotion that secretes from Stiles since they started the kissing only rule. That and hunger. Or exhaustion. 

“Me.”

Stiles eyes widen. “What?”

“I have a track record of rushing into things. All of my past relationships have just been a huge tornado of chaos. I go in, head first and come out burned. Literally.” Derek whispers the last word and it makes Stiles cringe. “I don’t want to do that with us. I promised myself I would do better. I would be a better person. A better beta to Scott, a better person in general. And I get you’re a horny 17 year old-“

“-soon to be 18.” Stiles interrupts. Derek smiles. 

“Yes. Soon to be 18. And it has nothing to do with your age. I got over that hang up a long time ago. But I’m not doing this to get my rocks off or to for you to get yours. I’m doing this because I’m trying to build something with you. Am I attracted to you? Yes. Very much. Do I want you? Fuck yes. But wouldn’t you rather wait and get to know me, get to know what us is, before we put sex into it? Wouldn’t it make it better?” Derek looks at Stiles with waiting eyes. 

Stiles groans, flopping face first into Derek’s lap. “When do you become such a SAP?” He mumbles into denim. Derek pets his head gently, twisting the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“Since I know, deep down it’s what you’d rather have than me slamming you against the wall and having my way with you and you not knowing how I felt after. This way, when we finally do have sex, you won’t question how I feel. Ever. You’ll just know.”

“Wait.” Stiles head whips up. “Does this mean you’re never going to slam me against the wall again? Cause I have a fantasy about that and-“

Derek grabs Stiles face, bending down to shut him up with a hard firm kiss. Stiles sighs into it and when Derek pulls back he flops back down into his lap. 

“Fine. We’ll wait. But like…can I have like a time line here? Like in…however weeks or months I will finally have your hand on my dick? Or your dick in my mouth?” Stiles is rubbing his face into Derek’s leg and Derek’s wolf purrs. 

“Well, I did have something planned for your birthday. But since you’re so damn impatient, now I don’t know…” 

Stiles bites Derek’s leg through his jeans and Derek jerks up in response. “Don’t you fucking dare tease me, Derek Hale.”

“Mmm.” Derek pets his head again. “Just a few more days, Stiles. You can wait. It’s going to be the best eighteenth birthday of any eighteen year old ever.”

“It’d better be. I freaking earned it.” Stiles mumbled words are coming out even softer than normal and Derek knows he’s near sleep. He smiles. 

“You wanna stay over? You’re Dad’s doing the overnight. And it’s not like he doesn’t know you’re here anyway. But just sleep, ok?” Derek lifts the boy up and Stiles’ sleepy honey brown eyes blink back at him. 

“And cuddles.” Stiles smacks his lips together, his eyes sliding shut. 

“Of course.” Derek lifts Stiles in his arms and carries him, honey moon style down the hall into his bedroom. He carefully lays Stiles down, removing everything but his t-shirt and underwear before stripping down to boxers himself and pulling soft sleep pants on. 

When the blankets slide over them, Stiles hums happily, pushing his back against Derek’s bare warm chest. Derek wraps his arms around the boy and realizes that in a few short days this fragile human he has spent the better part of 2 years protecting will soon no longer be just a boy. He will be a man of legal age, but Derek also realizes that Stiles hasn’t been just a boy in a long time. In a way, Stiles is more of a man, more of an adult, than Derek ever was. 

But that’s going to change. Derek is well on his way.

He presses his nose into the back of Stiles neck, inhaling everything that Stiles is and tightens his grip around his human.

He loves him. He’s always known that. But he refuses to mess this up.

Not this time. 

Not with Stiles.


End file.
